


Thorns

by begleiter



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Premature Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 13:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/begleiter/pseuds/begleiter
Summary: How does Wataru afford all of those roses, anyway? Maybe he grows them himself...





	Thorns

Keito barely pays attention to Wataru's latest exuberant monologue. Not, at least, until he lets out a too-familiar, "Amazing!" and sends a shower of roses cascading down on Keito, blanketing Eichi's desk (already blanketed in student council papers since Keito had commandeered it as a second workspace) when they don't bounce off of his head and plop to the floor. Wataru earns himself a scathing look for his latest theatrics, but he's as unphased by that as ever. There's something bright and intent in his violet eyes and Keito can tell he's not getting out of this without a headache.

"Shut up." His tone is flat and aggravated as he starts to sweep roses off the desk. "And stop that. I don't need--tch!" Thorns. Of course these stupid things still have thorns. Keito snatches his fingers away from the offending flower, briefly glaring at the red scratch it left against the back of his hand.

Wataru's slender, strong fingers take hold of Keito's, dragging his hand back across the desk. Keito feels his cheeks burn as Wataru presses his lips to the scratch, a soft, open-mouthed kiss with just a bit of teeth and tongue behind it. He lets it go on a second longer then he should (and a second shorter than he wants) before he darts his free hand out. Wataru is usually far too quick for him, but today he gets lucky and his fingers curl around Wataru's braid. Keito jumps to his feet with a surge of triumph, yanking Wataru forward and into a kiss, pretending all the while that he got one up on him and that he doesn't catch sight of Wataru's delighted smile.

The kiss is quick, rough, and messy. Their teeth click together for a moment before they figure out the rhythm. For a moment there's nothing but heated silence between the two of them, lips and tongues moving together - and then the lack of balance from having one hand on Wataru's braid and the other in his grasp catches up with Keito and he reels back, breathing hard.

Wataru doesn't give him much of a break, of course. Even with Keito's grip on his hair he levers himself onto the desk with smooth, easy motions, further scattering the roses and papers on top of it. Keito finally slackens his grip just enough to step back, letting Wataru swing his legs over the desk and sit perched neatly on the edge. Keito finally gives up on the braid as he steps forward, going right for his belt instead. Wataru's pleased chuckle just makes Keito lean back in and press another nippy, demanding kiss to Wataru's lips.

He can feel Wataru's clever fingers at his throat, making easy work of his tie and shirt buttons, and in his hair, neatly trimmed nails gently scratching against his scalp. In comparison Keito's movements are rough and fumbling, if still just as quick. It's only a matter of seconds before Wataru's pants are open enough for Keito to work his fingers between the layers of fabric. He feels a surge of smug delight when they smooth over warm flesh that's already half hard, as if he isn't in a similar state.

He eases Wataru's cock out of his pants, glowing with smug satisfaction when Wataru's eyes flutter closed and his head tips back, fingers finally falling still. Keito leans in and presses a kiss to the hollow of Wataru's throat, feeling his pulse pound beneath his skin. The sound of Wataru's steady breathing fills Keito's ears as he strokes him to full hardness. For a moment he thinks it might be nice to stay like this forever.

Then the moment passes. Keito lets go of Wataru and smoothes his hands under and around his waistband. Wataru drops one hand to brace against the desk, pushing himself up ( _How?_ Keito briefly wonders, not for the first time frustrated and jealous over Wataru's easy movements) enough for Keito yank his pants and boxers down to his knees in a single swift, rough movement. Wataru shakes them the rest of the way off one leg, losing his indoor shoe in the process.

Keito gets rid of his own pants, though he's only patient enough to shove them down around his thighs. While he does that Wataru produces a little bottle of lubricant from… somewhere (Keito has long since given up on figuring out how) and spills a generous handful into his palm. When Keito closes the distance between them again Wataru reaches down to stroke his slick hand over Keito's cock. Keito twitches at the feel, letting out an unsteady sigh. He's already too far gone to bother with embarrassment over how quickly he goes from half-mast to hard and aching. He doesn't care.

Wataru scoots himself to the edge of the desk, letting his hand fall away so that he can lean back on his elbows. Keito doesn't bother with any further preparation--the first time he'd bothered being careful Wataru had teased him incessantly, and he's learned since then that they both prefer this anyway--and simply lines himself up. Wataru hooks his ankles around the back of Keito's thighs, letting out a slow sigh and what little tension was left in his frame with it. Keito rolls his hips forward, using his hand to guide his cock as he steadily builds pressure against that tight ring of muscle--and then all at once the head of his cock slips inside, prompting a shiver from both of them. There. Hard part over.

Wataru slides his still-slick hand against Keito's shoulder ( _That's going to **stain** ,_ Keito has the energy to think but not say), digging his slender fingers into his blazer. Keito continues his steady press forward, breathing growing more and more ragged the more Wataru's tight heat presses around him. He doesn't bother stopping to let either of them adjust even once their hips are flush together, instead immediately pulling back to test a few short, shallow thrusts. Wataru says nothing, but he pulls himself upright and yanks his legs tighter around Keito's. It counts.

Keito braces one hand against the desk and pulls the other tight around Wataru's shoulders, his hand roaming up so that he can bury it in his soft, silvery strands of hair. The roll of his hips is shallow but rough enough to rock the two of them each time he buries himself inside Wataru. Again, he thinks it might be nice to stay like this forever - though staying like this even for more than a few minutes might be difficult. As soon as Keito has found a rhythm Wataru's fingers start to dance over the nape of his neck and his lips press to his throat, sending a tingling sensation racing down his spine.

"Watch it," he hisses, not at all disliking the feel but _knowing_ how fast it'll drive him to the edge of orgasm. Of course, all but flatly telling Wataru that's he's being affected has the opposite effect. The dancing turns to light scratching and the kiss turns into a light scrape of the teeth. " _Bastard_ , what are you doing--" And naturally, too naturally, Wataru chooses that moment to properly bite him, sucking the skin of Keito's throat between his teeth so that he can leave a dark red mark behind. His fingers bury themselves in Keito's hair, pulling tight. "Hibiki!" Keito's tone is a mixture of frustration, desperation, and annoyance. He lurches forward, driving them both down to the desk as he jerks his hips against Wataru's, finally driving a few gasps from the other man. It's enough to send Keito's orgasm crashing over him, driving his own breathing to desperate, ragged gasping.

Keito usually prefered to simply relax and bask in the afterglow for a moment, but now he yanks himself back and out of Wataru as soon as he can stand up straight again. He's shivering all over as he drops to his knees, leans in, and drags his tongue over the head of Wataru's still-hard cock, noticing with sullen resignation that Wataru is only too happy to loosen his grip on him as he goes. And of course, it doesn't take long for Wataru's fingers to slide into his hair again, nor for his legs to drape over Keito's shoulders.

_Bastard,_ Keito thinks to himself again, but he only parts his lips and slides himself down Wataru's cock. He only makes it halfway before he has to draw back again, and if Wataru doesn't like that then he can learn to stop teasing.

But he _does_ like it, Keito can tell. The relative silence of a few moments ago has utterly evaporated. Wataru is generous with his voice now, soft little moans and happy exhalations that sound like laughter escaping him a steady stream. In the haze that lingers after his orgasm Keito can't even care that someone might overhear, or that he knows for a fact that the council room door isn't locked.

It clicks quite abruptly that Wataru hasn't actually _said_ anything since he started showering roses over Keito's desk. Realizing that he's been played so expertly without a single word spoken makes Keito's cheek's burn.

If it wasn't a competition before then it certainly is now. Keito pulls back to suck at the head of Wataru's cock, teasing the tip of his tongue against the slit and privately relishing in the salty taste of precome. Wataru finally, _finally_ rewards Keito with a full-body shudder and a proper, needy cry, his voice filling up the room. Half a moment later that salty taste fills Keito's mouth entirely. He'd balked the first time they did this, nearly choked, but now he swallows down Wataru's come without a trace of hesitation. He lingers there for a moment, waiting for any aftershocks, before he finally pulls away.

The two of them simply stay there for a moment, Wataru sprawled out on Eichi's desk and Keito on his knees in front of him, both of them breathing hard. Keito is the first to finally move again, dragging open the bottom drawer of the desk and withdrawing a packet of wet wipes allegedly kept on hand for any sort of mess, but mostly used for just this. He withdraws one for himself before tossing the pack at Wataru then sets himself to the task of, to put it delicately, wiping the lube and semen off his dick. The two of them continue like that in a comfortable silence, righting their clothes and straightening their hair and carefully covering up the marks they've left on each other.

Keito is the first to try to speak, but he only gets as far as, "Hibiki--" before Wataru presses closer, shutting up Keito with another kiss. Then he withdraws, flitting across the room and out the door with a flirtatious smile, leaving Keito with nothing but the growing suspicion that he lost a game he's only just realized they were playing.

\--Suspicion and one other thing, as it turns out. Keito feels the rose tucked into his tie tickling his throat well before he sees it, and he yanks it free with a frustrated growl. Still, even when he gathers up the rest of Wataru's roses and tosses them into the garbage that one earns a temporary but prominent place on his desk, slipped into his penholder like it's meant to be there.

It's the only one without thorns, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> HappyEle won't give us more KeiWata content so I made my own.


End file.
